Pride
by Cheetah Goddess
Summary: Winning World Cup games makes Germany a very happy man.


His own time at the World Cup may have come to an abrupt end, but that didn't mean Italy had no reason to be happy.

The ever-cheerful Italian sat inches away from the TV screen, clothed in his friend's slightly oversized white jersey and waving the black, red, and gold horn in his hands (which he was no longer allowed to play after multiple visits from the staff) as he watched the match. It was the German's hotel room he was staying in; a welcomed offer of accommodations Italy had eagerly taken up once his own team was sent home during the first round.

Of course the loss still stung—he wasn't good at much, yet football was one of things he could _usually_ do well—but Italy had quickly recovered from his defeat, focusing all his energy on cheering for the German players. Every change of possession caused the burnet to gasp; every time a referee would call foul made his eyebrows furrow; every time the goal was approached saw him sliding off the edge of his seat, holding the vuvuzela to his chest like a lifeline. And those four goals left him breathless, jumping into the air and shouting in celebration.

The game was over with a final score of 4 to 1, and Italy couldn't be happier with the result.

"Germany! Germany! You made it to the final eight! Congratulazioni!" Italy had skipped to his feet as soon as he heard the click of the lock, waiting on the man to return from the stadium.

The blond walked in, closing the door as calmly as any other day. "Ja…" He looked up at the Italian, his usual stern expression greeting the man…until a rare smile began to stretch across his face. "We made it."

The gap between them was closed in a matter of seconds, and Italy found himself lifted off the ground. He let out a squeak, surprised by the German's tight hug

"We made it! We really did…" Italy could feel the rumble of Germany's deep laughter, and a wide smile of his own spread across his cheeks.

"You did, Germany! Your guys did wonderful—Ah!" Another squeak escaped him as the German lifted him higher into the air, quickly turning to giggles as he was spun around, wrapping his legs around the man's waist. "Eh heh, Germany is really happy, ve!"

The blond continued to chuckle, pressing the brunet's back against one of the walls, arms wrapped firmly around the Italian's hips. "Yes, I am…" Germany rested his forehead against the Italian's, smile still etched on his face. "I am just…so proud…"

"I'm happy for you too, Germany!" Italy squirmed in Germany's hold, still full of giggles. "Just think! Germany could make it all the way to the final—"

The almost chaste kiss the German placed on his lips instantly silenced Italy, a small blush burning his cheeks in his surprise. He didn't hesitate for long however, craning his neck to return the kiss, giggles returning two-fold.

"Ah, yes…there's that…" Smiling lips pressed against Italy's again, breath blowing hot across his face. "We could even win the whole Cup…"

"Ve, you—mm, you could!" The Italian struggled to speak between the kisses, Germany pressing kiss after kiss onto his lips. "Ah, is—mm! I-is Germany drunk?"

"Not at all…" Germany's kisses trailed away from Italy's neck, across his cheek and down his neck, resting his lips against the now flushed skin. "I am perfectly sober."

"A-ah!" Italy let out a gasp, arms tightening around the German's neck as a playful nip sank into his collarbone. "G-Germany is acting silly, eh heh…"

The German let out another low chuckle, placing a small kiss against Italy's neck. "I'm just happy."

"But Germany never gives me this many kisses—a-ah!" A tremble racked his frame as the German's tongue darted out, licking up Italy's neck slowly. "G-Germany…"

Another chuckle, Germany's teasing breath brushing past his ear. "Hmm?" Another groan escaped Italy as the blond gave the lobe a quick lick. "What is it…?"

The man attempted to pout, but forgot how to as soon as teeth began tugging at his ear, bringing more gasps from his chest. "G-Germany…y-you're teasing…"

"Am I?" More kisses darted down Italy's neck, every inch caressed by grinning lips until he reached the Italian's once again. "I'm sorry."

Germany pressed his lips against the other's, meeting no resistance from the brunet. The kiss quickly grew fevered, Italy's legs tightening around Germany's waist as the man's tongue pressed into his mouth with a small growl.

The Italian moaned out; even with their lips glued together, the German man still managed to tease him; pressing his tongue deeper into Italy's mouth, running it over his lips and sucking them into his own mouth until they were plump and red. More ragged gasps left the smaller of the two as Germany's hips rolled against Italy's, the blond's grip around his waist tightening.

More kisses were shared and bodies continued up their motion, moans and growls filling the room. Italy gripped the German's shirt, gasping out at every thrust of his hips, allowing the German infiltrate his mouth deeper.

They paused in their kissing, breath mingling as the blond chuckled at Italy's shameless reaction. Germany readjusted and tightened his grip around the Italian, smiling against the pouting lips.

"G-Germany…v-ve, Germany…?" Italy panted, struggle to find the air to voice his question.

"Hmm?"

"T-This is be-because…y-you're happy, right?"

The blond quirked a brow, a smile playing across his lips again. "…I guess that could be a reason, yes."

"Then…" A small smile of his own matched the German's. "W-what happens…when you win?"

It took a moment for Germany to register his words, but once he did the smile on his lips turned almost sensual. A hand wandered up to grasp that single curly strand, a long moan escaping the Italian.

"…would you like a preview?"

* * *

**A/N: If Germany wins, I'm totally gonna write some hot man-on-man action. :"D -shot-**


End file.
